


Death, Be Not Proud - A Requiem

by Bil



Series: Harry Potter Poetry [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death, Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:07:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23620564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bil/pseuds/Bil
Summary: Death comes for Albus Dumbledore at the end of HBP.
Series: Harry Potter Poetry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674880
Kudos: 4





	Death, Be Not Proud - A Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> At one stage I was reading for too much Romantic era poetry... Thus, this.
> 
> Written pre-DH when I was hoping that Snape was on the "good" side. 
> 
> Full disclosure: I don't like canon Dumbledore any more. But I did for the first few books, so in fanfiction I sometimes go back to that Dumbledore. A kind of "what if".

Death stood beneath the mighty tower  
In the darkling mid-night hour,  
Beside the body dead and still  
Where the spirit lingered still,  
And in a voice cold as the grave  
Said "Lo! thou now hast been betrayed."

The spirit looked upon the one  
Who comes to all when life is done  
And smiled, as though Death were no foe,  
And simply said but one word: No.  
But Death, who never knows defeat,  
Said, as one without conceit:

"Thy soul is mine, thy life is done,  
For thou hast been betrayed by one  
In whom thou trusted, whom thou loved."  
He raised a hand, of bone ungloved  
By skin; his deadly scythe did shine;  
And said then, "All thou art is mine."

The spirit (hero, wizard, mage,  
Mentor, teacher, student, sage)  
Said, "I have never feared your touch.  
My life was long, accomplished much.  
And if betrayal caused my death  
I do not love my friends the less."

Death gazed at him with wondering eyes,  
His head full of a wild surmise;  
He lowered his scythe and failed to strike  
A soul with no desire to fight.  
"Thou dost not choose to hate thy slayer?  
Thou givest mercy to betrayers?"

"He has been a friend to me.  
Betrayer? That we yet shall see.  
The game is not yet played out, Death,  
And there is hope while there is breath."  
He smiled; his voice was soft and low,  
As if to soften a coming blow.

"You may take me now but know:  
I do not die, I do not go,  
While one remembers how I lived.  
And yes, my killer I forgive."  
Lo! Death took off his heavy crown,  
Before the spirit he bowed down...

_So lift your voice in praise of one_  
 _Whose life has warmed us as the sun_  
 _Beams down upon the rows of corn_  
 _In fields crowded and fields forlorn,_  
 _Giving hope that all may pass_  
 _Through strife - and victor be at last._


End file.
